Read Online Equal of the Sun by Anita Amirrezvani - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Anita Amirrezvani
Tags: General Fiction
Ads: Link
minutes.
The women began trying to break their way out of the circle of horses by ducking in between the restive mounts. The men closed ranks to trap them, and then Shamkhal grabbed the woman’s chador and picheh and ripped them from her body.
“Spare me!” she screamed in a strangled voice. When Kholafa tore off the kerchief covering her short hair, my suspicions were confirmed: It was Haydar. He put his hands out to protect himself, and his left eye twitched as if he were in his death throes.
From behind the checkpoint, Haydar’s men shouted out a chorus of comfort. “Haydar, we’re here to protect you! Help is at hand!”
Haydar turned toward their voices and shouted out, “Hurry!” as he flung himself toward an opening in the circle of horses. Shamkhal and Kholafa jumped off their mounts, pushed away the ladies, and lunged for him. Haydar lost his footing and dropped to the ground with a loud thump. The pink shoes flew off his feet, and his legs sprawled as the men struggled to pin down his arms.
There was a roar in the distance as the first of Haydar’s supporters breached the gate into the harem. I recognized the soldier with the thick red scar. He uttered a battle cry so fierce it curdled my blood, and he thrust his sword at me as he thundered past. I avoided being skewered only by falling facedown in the dirt.
“We have no choice. Finish him!” I heard Shamkhal say. When I looked up, he had succeeded in pinning Haydar’s arms behind his back. Kholafa drew his sword and thrust it twice into Haydar’s abdomen. A wet red stain sprang to life on his gray robe. As it spread across his belly, Haydar grimaced and clutched his middle. His groans were thick with blood.
Awva and the other lady began screaming in horror, folding in half at the waist and hitting their knees and temples with their hands. Their cries were more awful than anything I had ever heard.
Shamkhal’s soldiers hoisted Haydar’s body onto their shoulders and began marching toward the checkpoint leading to the birooni. By then more of Haydar’s supporters had breached the harem, including Hossein Beyg Ostajlu. He stared at the broken body in the bloodied gray robe.
“Alas! Our shining hope has been cruelly destroyed! May you and your families be cursed until the end of their line!” he shouted, along with a string of profanities. He and his soldiers skirmished briefly with Shamkhal’s men, but what use is a group of supporters without their shah? Before long, the men behind Hossein Beyg spurred their horses toward the birooni, fearful of being killed. Hossein Beyg’s guard closed ranks around him, and he escaped in the confusion.
Shamkhal directed his men to leave the palace grounds through the door that led to the Promenade of the Royal Stallions and to take up guard outside the Ali Qapu. As they marched out, he tossed me the large metal key. I followed, slammed the heavy door behind them, and locked it securely.
The rosebushes nearby had been decapitated. A nightingale began to sing in one of the cedar trees, reminding me of a lament. My red roses threw open their skirts for you, but now their petals darken the ground like tears of blood. Dust coated my clothes, and my mouth tasted of bile.
I stumbled to Pari’s house and told her and Maryam what had happened. Their faces turned pale when I described Haydar’s death. “It is as if the dirt of my grave is covering my head!” the princess said. “Why didn’t my uncle do my bidding?”
“It was God’s will,” I replied, trying to offer comfort.
Her thin body seemed as fragile as a long-necked rose-water sprinkler made of glass. Although I would have liked to comfort her, I knew Maryam would soothe away her woes better than anyone else could.
I returned to the dormitory that housed the eunuchs who served the harem. Our building, which was notable only for its modesty, now struck me as a sanctuary. Collapsing onto a wool cushion in the guest room, I shed my soiled outer
The women began trying to break their way out of the circle of horses by ducking in between the restive mounts. The men closed ranks to trap them, and then Shamkhal grabbed the woman’s chador and picheh and ripped them from her body.
“Spare me!” she screamed in a strangled voice. When Kholafa tore off the kerchief covering her short hair, my suspicions were confirmed: It was Haydar. He put his hands out to protect himself, and his left eye twitched as if he were in his death throes.
From behind the checkpoint, Haydar’s men shouted out a chorus of comfort. “Haydar, we’re here to protect you! Help is at hand!”
Haydar turned toward their voices and shouted out, “Hurry!” as he flung himself toward an opening in the circle of horses. Shamkhal and Kholafa jumped off their mounts, pushed away the ladies, and lunged for him. Haydar lost his footing and dropped to the ground with a loud thump. The pink shoes flew off his feet, and his legs sprawled as the men struggled to pin down his arms.
There was a roar in the distance as the first of Haydar’s supporters breached the gate into the harem. I recognized the soldier with the thick red scar. He uttered a battle cry so fierce it curdled my blood, and he thrust his sword at me as he thundered past. I avoided being skewered only by falling facedown in the dirt.
“We have no choice. Finish him!” I heard Shamkhal say. When I looked up, he had succeeded in pinning Haydar’s arms behind his back. Kholafa drew his sword and thrust it twice into Haydar’s abdomen. A wet red stain sprang to life on his gray robe. As it spread across his belly, Haydar grimaced and clutched his middle. His groans were thick with blood.
Awva and the other lady began screaming in horror, folding in half at the waist and hitting their knees and temples with their hands. Their cries were more awful than anything I had ever heard.
Shamkhal’s soldiers hoisted Haydar’s body onto their shoulders and began marching toward the checkpoint leading to the birooni. By then more of Haydar’s supporters had breached the harem, including Hossein Beyg Ostajlu. He stared at the broken body in the bloodied gray robe.
“Alas! Our shining hope has been cruelly destroyed! May you and your families be cursed until the end of their line!” he shouted, along with a string of profanities. He and his soldiers skirmished briefly with Shamkhal’s men, but what use is a group of supporters without their shah? Before long, the men behind Hossein Beyg spurred their horses toward the birooni, fearful of being killed. Hossein Beyg’s guard closed ranks around him, and he escaped in the confusion.
Shamkhal directed his men to leave the palace grounds through the door that led to the Promenade of the Royal Stallions and to take up guard outside the Ali Qapu. As they marched out, he tossed me the large metal key. I followed, slammed the heavy door behind them, and locked it securely.
The rosebushes nearby had been decapitated. A nightingale began to sing in one of the cedar trees, reminding me of a lament. My red roses threw open their skirts for you, but now their petals darken the ground like tears of blood. Dust coated my clothes, and my mouth tasted of bile.
I stumbled to Pari’s house and told her and Maryam what had happened. Their faces turned pale when I described Haydar’s death. “It is as if the dirt of my grave is covering my head!” the princess said. “Why didn’t my uncle do my bidding?”
“It was God’s will,” I replied, trying to offer comfort.
Her thin body seemed as fragile as a long-necked rose-water sprinkler made of glass. Although I would have liked to comfort her, I knew Maryam would soothe away her woes better than anyone else could.
I returned to the dormitory that housed the eunuchs who served the harem. Our building, which was notable only for its modesty, now struck me as a sanctuary. Collapsing onto a wool cushion in the guest room, I shed my soiled outer
Similar Books
